


Bound in Misery

by gvarchangel



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game), Dungeons & Dragons - All Media Types
Genre: Demons, Devils, Family, Family Bonding, Family Secrets, Other, Slaves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-13
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-21 13:40:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,421
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30022614
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gvarchangel/pseuds/gvarchangel
Summary: A brief look at the life of Corvo the halfling and his family before he became a wanted criminal and wandering thief.





	Bound in Misery

**Bound In Misery**

The basement window was a tight squeeze, even for the small halfling. When he finally got through, he just fell onto the table below, then to the floor in a heap. He didn’t try to get up.

That was the first sign something was wrong. The second was the smell. He reeked of burnt fabric and flesh. That was enough to make Myrtle forget yelling at him and rush to his side. “Corvo? Come on, up, up, up, let me look.”

He managed with her assistance. He leaned against the table leg, panting as he pulled the scarf away from his face. When she propped him up, he let out a hiss of pain. “Easy… and watch the- SHIT.”

Myrtle’s knee came up warm, wet, and crimson. The source was a slash in her brother’s thigh. The handkerchief-turned-bandage had soaked through and was slowly leaking. She adjusted to avoid it, now looking for more injuries. “Please tell me that’s all. Is there anything else hurt, anything at all?”

“Just my pride and back.” His small grin was cut off with another grimace as she adjusted his shirt to give a proper view of the burn. “Gentle back there… damn Hellhound chewed on me enough, don’t need you doing it too.”

It was only two wounds, thankfully. Most of his lower back was scorched. The skin had blistered in several small patches, and there were some worryingly dark spots to it. His shirt was a lost cause, but it wasn’t fused with him completely. Only slightly, where the bubbled flesh was the worst. The leg had one cut, running across his thigh and almost into muscle. It wasn’t bleeding too bad, so it looked to have missed his veins. Nothing that seemed in danger of killing him immediately.

  
  


After seeing all this, Myrtle gave a sigh of relief… before going to work. “Welby! Welby, get over here.”

The smallest halfling came running, tea cups and kettle clanking on the tray he carried atop his head. He saw his brother and gasped, almost dropping everything. One cup did fall over the edge.

Corvo caught it in one hand and set it gently on the ground. “It looks worse than it is… didn’t slow me down until a mile ago.” He leaned his head on the wall with closed eyes.

Myrtle took the burned shirt and threw it to her younger brother. “In the fireplace, Welby, quickly. Before they come down to ask about breakfast.”

He nodded and set the tray on a table before running with the bloody fabric. The small fire was cooking soup for lunch, now that the tea kettle had been removed. Welby watched the flames consume the shirt, nervously chewing his lower lip as the process took its sweet time. “I-I-I think it’s wuh-working.”

“Good.” The sister was searching for a clean cloth that wouldn’t be missed. She had to settle for a dish drying rag. The thought crossed her mind to tear the sleeves from her shirt, but that would be too obvious. They’d want to know what happened to her uniform, why she had damaged it… the towel would do. She pressed it to Corvo’s cut and prayed it would stop the bleeding. “What happened? Were you caught? Did anyone see you?”

  
  


Corvo shook his head, finally breathing steadily. “No… went off without a hitch. And got everything.” His hand pat the pouch on his hip. It jingled faintly with the sound of coin.

“Then what happened? Where did all of-”

“Bennington’s got a new pet. I think he made another demon deal.” Corvo groaned slightly, but stayed still as she applied more pressure. “I left a necklace and a broach in his priest’s bedside drawer. They’re engraved, good evidence if his guards start looking… ran into the Hellhound on my way out. Managed to shake it without much noise… Even if they teach it to talk, it just saw me slipping through the back courtyard. We should be fine.”

Myrtle gave her own sigh of relief. She took her hand away from the rag and confirmed he wasn’t bleeding through it this time. Corvo’s belt was the closest, best thing she could use to secure it in place. Then she stood to grab more cloth for the burns. “Good. Good, good, ok… ok, we’re still safe then. As long as you’re sure no one else saw you.”

“No one other than that damn dog. I ran a few extra loops to make sure I wasn’t followed… Even made it back in time for breakfast.”

The elder two halflings shared a tired laugh. Welby didn’t join in. There was a clicking from the small pocket knife in his hand as he fidgeted with it, staring unblinkingly at his siblings.

  
  


Corvo noticed and managed to climb to his feet. Slowly. He had to lean on the table just to stay upright. “Hey, come on, quit looking at me like that. Makes me feel like I’ve got a mole or something.”

Welby walked over, shaking his head. He held his hand out close to the burn without touching it. “Yuh-yuh-you’re warm-m-m, Corvo… a-are you s-s-sure you’re oh-oh-ok?”

“He’ll live. He’s not leaving me with his chores,” Myrtle answered as she collected wet rags. It was hard to tell if the water made them that light brown or if they were just stained. But it was the best she could manage without drawing notice from the home’s owners.

“Feeling the love.” Corvo winced slightly when the cold was pressed against the burn. But he managed to stay still, lest he waste their water. He focused his eyes on Welby. “Hey, can you do me a favor? Grab my uniform. We’ll deliver breakfast when Myrtle’s done, ok?”

The youngest nodded quickly and ran towards their shared bedroom. As little as he was, he didn’t even have to duck to fit under the table and take the most direct route.

Myrtle waited until he was gone before whispering to her older brother. “How much did you get?”

  
  


Corvo set the pouch on the counter. The thing was almost bigger than his hand, meant for humans, not pre-teen halflings. “Thirty eight gold, eleven silver. And a small emerald, size of my pinkie. Think it came from a ring… that broach was worth four times this, easily. Damned engraving.”

“We couldn’t sell it anyway, not since they arrested Stump… it was better to use it to keep the guards looking elsewhere.” Myrtle sighed under her breath. “It is better that way, right?”

“For now. Until we get away from here… then we can buy or take whatever we want. And no one will tell us we can’t have something ever again.”

Myrtle started with the last cold, wet rag. She’d peeled all the shirt off already: this was just making sure it was clean, and to help with the pain. Corvo’d quit shuddering and jumping at the water. She took it as a good sign. “I think… I’d like a hair pin first. Something blue in it. A light blue, aquamarine, I think it’s called? With my name on it. So everyone knows that it’s mine.”

Corvo nodded slowly. “After we get Welby’s name on his pocket knife. That’ll be a cheaper. But your first birthday in whatever country we end up, you’ll get one… I promise.”

Myrtle allowed herself a smile. Corvo felt it without seeing it, and let himself smile as well.

  
  


Welby returned a few moments later, Corvo’s servant attire slung over his shoulder. He was in his own, clean suit as well. The hand me down pants were still holding up, patches, rolled up legs, and all. Corvo nodded at that, reminding himself he needed to find another outfit to wear when he was out at night. Something dark enough to blend in with shadows.

“Look at that, I didn’t even have to tell him to get changed this time.” Myrtle smiled at her little brother to make it clear she wasn’t picking on him. She took a dry rag and dabbed the water off Corvo’s back. “Get dressed and give me your pants. I think I can save them… maybe.”

Corvo did as he was ordered. What he handed Myrtle was a loose bundle of bloody fabric, a pouch of coin and tools, and a pair of daggers. The older siblings were careful to keep that last bit hidden from Welby. “Thank you. Let me know if we’re low on thread when you’re done.”

Myrtle just nodded and carried everything to the bedroom. She paused to kiss her little brother’s forehead as she passed. It made them both smile ever so slightly.

As Corvo stepped towards the tea set, he felt his head start to swim again. The pain was manageable, but exhaustion and hunger was getting to him. He bit the inside of his cheek and focused on that. It pushed down the worst of his dizziness. “Alright, Welby? What do we need still? Tea’s ready, so what, just the oatmeal and the biscuits?”

“Yes, and-duh-duh the ap-puh-puh-ples. You can’t forget-t-t the fuh-fuh-fruit.” He stood on his tip toes to get the large plate of food from the counter. As he did with the tea tray before, he carried it atop his head.

  
  


“Ah, stupid me, right? Can’t forget the fruit.” Corvo smirked at him as he put the dropped cup back on his tray. Then he paused. “Well, I forgot one, you forgot the other. Sugar cubes, remember?”

Welby stopped dead in his tracks. “Crap.” As soon as the word left his mouth, he clamped a hand over it and glowed bright red.

Corvo’s free hand flicked him in the ear. “Hey, you know better. That’s a big kid word, you hear me? You can’t say that until you’re as tall as me. Got it?”

“I kn-nuh-nuh-now. S-sorry, Cuh-Cuh-Corvo.” His blush only got brighter, his hand now rubbing where he’d been flicked.

“… apology accepted, alright?” Corvo ruffled his hair with a tiny smile. “Now, sugar. Get going, quick.”

“Buh-Buh-Be right buh-buh-buh-back.” Welby quickly set his plate on the counter and ran for the pantry.

  
  


A little too quickly. He had left the plate right on the edge again, and Corvo had to catch it before it fell. But it was an easy save. He made sure everything was securely on a table before closing his eyes and leaning back to stretch. He grit his teeth, keeping down a groan. Everything that wasn’t burnt was stiff, and everything that was burnt hated the idea of moving. He was going to sleep well when he got the chance… maybe he could talk Myrtle into covering for him so he could nap during afternoon tea. If Welby did the laundry and she made sure the humans were happy, maybe-

He heard the door to the house open, and he snapped into a formal, upright stance before he even saw who it was. Unfortunately, it was Breanna. He grimaced under his breath.

Even two years his junior, the human towered a foot and a half over him. And she liked that. She did her favorite thing to antagonize him: she stood right in his face and looked down on him. “Well, well, well, someone looks tired… and this kitchen doesn’t have near enough food to show for it. So you do poor work _and_ take forever to do it.”

Corvo kept his eyes straight ahead and unfocused, trying to appear subservient. “Myrtle’s working on your wash, ma’am. I’m sorry, but Welby’s not big enough to-”

“He’s big enough to stir oatmeal and cut fruit, you stupid rat. Surely he’s not too brain dead to not know which end of the knife is the sharp one. Not like you.” She yanked his forearm up to put the fresh, jagged scar in front of his eyes. “Though maybe that lesson stuck last time.”

The halfling bit his lip to keep himself silent. Any other reaction would just make it worse. The Baron didn’t listen when he said she broke the glass, not him. And what she did when she found out he tried to tell the truth… he bit harder and tasted blood.

  
  


“Look at me when I’m speaking to you.” She dropped the arm to grip his chin and twist his face up towards hers.

He forced himself to appear ambivalent. If she saw anything but servility in his expression, he’d spend the week regretting it. He let his muscles go slack and silently ordered his heart to beat slower. He hoped he looked calmer than he felt.

Breanna examined him for maybe twenty seconds. Her petite fingers dug into his cheek so he couldn’t move. She almost seemed to be smelling him for some kind of emotion or opening before letting go with a huff. “There isn’t a damn thing going on between those ears of yours, is there? Just like your idiot father. But at least he could follow orders. Faster than you, apparently.”

Corvo took another slow breath through his nose and looked at her brown eyes calmly. He forced all his tension into his hand, into driving a nail into his left palm. “Breakfast will be delivered to the dining room in just a moment, ma’am. Is there any other request I can perform for you?”

“Yes, there is, actually.” She grinned, more like a viper than a human ten year old. She pulled a piece of official looking mail from her pocket and forced it into his hand. “Father will be entertaining Count Andrews and his family for dinner. As such, it will be on you to provide a meal fit for royalty. Lucky for you, they already sent us a menu.”

He recognized about half of the words, maybe two thirds. Of course it had to be in Common, in that damned fancy script that he swore existed just to make the writer feel important and his life harder… he immediately saw how bad this day was going to be.

“Ma’am, most of these require the meats be marinated and smoked for several hours before being served. To feed a group of this size, we should have started preparing yesterday.”

“Oh, really? Shame, I suppose I _should_ have delivered that as soon as it came, then. But I was so busy last week, it slipped my mind. But surely you can manage, can’t you? Father’s reputation relies quite heavily on this dinner, after all.”

  
  


Corvo’s blood caught in both a raging boil and frozen terror as he saw her sadistic grin. JordanGontier was desperate to climb the ranks of nobility, to get even half of the power his family held only two generations ago. He wasn’t cruel, not like some of the other masters he’d heard of. But he was not a forgiving man when his plans failed. Especially if he had a scapegoat to blame and take his frustration out on. Halfling slaves made great scapegoats.

But that was the point. She wanted this. She wanted to see them scramble to make it work, to squirm nervously as they waited to see if they failed. But most of all, she wanted her father’s approval to punish them as much as she pleased. Welby still had trouble laying on his back from the last time they had all been forced into the courtyard shed.

He tasted copper in his mouth as he bit harder. His face stayed as stationary as he could manage, but his mind dreamed of vengeance now. He wanted to taste her blood, not his. He wanted to carve that smile into her face so she had to wear it like the ugly monster she was. Corvo’s hand trembled ever so slightly as he thought about driving one of those daggers through her cheeks.

“You will be able to manage it, won’t you? I’d hate to have to take you three to the outbuilding again,” Breanna threatened, grinning wider.

He wanted to leap at her throat. He almost did.

  
  


What stopped him was Welby. Corvo wasn’t sure when he came back, but he was standing maybe two feet behind her. He hadn’t made a sound, and Breanna definitely hadn’t noticed. He stood with his hands on his hips and head tilted in a perfect replica of Breanna’s posture. His tongue was hanging loosely out his mouth as he rolled his head from side to side, a mocking imitation of her speaking. To top it off, he even did a hair toss over his shoulder at the same time she did.

Corvo had to stop himself from laughing aloud. It was close, but he managed. The anger and the fear was still there. But he had it under control again. Enough he could be a good little servant.

“We’ll make it work, ma’am. But please, let us worry about that. We’ll be right behind you with breakfast.” He gave her a tiny bow, trying to guide her to ending the conversation.

Breanna’s smirk faded, instantly replaced with an unhappy scowl. But not one outright angry. “You’d better. Caleb gets cranky when you take too long with his food.”

As she turned and started to walk away, she saw Welby standing there, bowl of sugar cubes in hand. He’d already returned to his normal posture before she could have seen it. It’s why she only shoved him to the ground, rather than slapping him as she stormed out.

  
  


When the kitchen door slammed shut, Corvo grit his teeth again to stifle a flash of renewed anger. It wasn’t as bad as it had been a moment ago. But when he looked down, he realized he’d grabbed a knife from the counter. He knew exactly what he wanted to do with it. What he couldn’t do, not today… maybe not until the day they left this hellish prison.

He put the blade down and helped Welby to his feet, smiling at him. “You tilted your head a little too far. She’s too full of hot air to get it that far to one side.”

Welby gave a short laugh and picked up the sugar bowl again. “Muh-muh-muh-maybe. I wuh-wish I could do thuh-thuh-that nose twitch she does when shuh-shuh-she gets muh-muh-mad.”

“Keep practicing, you’ll get it.” Corvo slid the fruit and oats back over to him, then helped him balance the tray on his head.

Myrtle came back in and looked over the scene with a curious expression. “Why do I feel like I missed something really interesting just now? And neither of you are going to bother explaining.”

Corvo handed her the stationary. “No time. We’ve got dinner plans. It’s going to be a long day.”

“… oh, you have got to be kidding me. I knew it, I knew she was keeping something from us. The Baron’s been nervous all week about a meeting. Of course _we_ have to cater it.” Myrtle angrily flicked the paper and looked to her brothers.

  
  


“What all do we have in the pantry? I recognize the meats, not the spices.”

“We’ve got… probably two thirds of those. Give or take. We need a _lot_ more beef and potatoes, though.” Myrtle folded it into her pocket, rubbing her temple. “Ok, ok, give me a second… Bring them breakfast. I’ll try to talk the quartermaster into sending me out with an escort, be there as soon as the market opens. Corvo, if you can tend to the Gontiers, Welby can at least wash vegetables and get a fire going to smoke the meats when I get back.”

Corvo nodded and made sure Welby had his tray balanced correctly. “Try to get antibiotics too, please, keep my leg from getting infected. Hopefully Breanna is too busy patting herself on the back to make today any more difficult.”

“Let her try. I have a letter from her school about her grades she tried to hide from the Baron, saved for a day we need her out of our hair. And I’m in a mood to use it on that brat out of spite right now.” She grinned at her brothers mischievously.

“I might just let you.” The eldest halfling hugged his sister with one arm and then nudged her away. “Get going, yell if you need anything.”

Welby seemed to be in the best spirits of the whole trio. He stood at the door, gripping the handle with a smirk. “Luh-Let’s prove the bitch wrr-wrong.”

Neither of his siblings chastised him. They just grinned wider, determined to do exactly that.

**Author's Note:**

> Well, this was... "fun" doesn't seem like the right word for this project. But it was a nice short change of pace, and explored something I hadn't done in a while. This was the kind of childhood my poor halfling rogue Corvo went through with his siblings. Being born a slave in a country that's known to literally sacrifice them to demons and devils for more power is not a good situation for anyone to be in. But Corvo and his siblings made the best of it, in spite of every hard ship they went through. This is a little snippet of those times.
> 
> For context, this is about three years before his siblings were killed by another set of nobles and he went on his vengeance spree before fleeing the country. Which puts him at about 12 here, with his sister about 10 and little brother 7. And a few years after their parents died from a totally preventable illness if their owners had properly cared for them. Like I said, "fun" is not the right word for this story.
> 
> Just wanted to get this one out the door, hope it's enjoyed.


End file.
